Two’s a crowd

Lois A. Corcoran

I felt rather anti-social that day, not at all in the mood for visitors. But company arrived, nevertheless. When I saw them pull up to the curb, I headed for the hills, better known as my sprawling walk-in attic.

To ensure a comfortable stay, I grabbed a book and blanket on the way up and settled in for an extended sabbatical. From my post, I heard the sound of faint voices and breathed a sigh of relief at my narrow escape.

But as I read, the voices grew louder. “This is the dining room,” the girl said to her companion, who murmured a reply. Soon I heard footsteps as the two ascended the stairs.

“And here’s their bedroom,” said the gal, who halted just outside my attic door. At least I made the bed, I thought idly, but good grief! How far is this tour gonna go? I held my breath, lest I make some noise and call attention to myself. Time seemed to stand still.

Then the door burst open and my guests discovered me camped out on the attic floor. A deer-in-theheadlights moment if ever I saw one, but I recovered in short order.

“Gosh!” I said, my voice full of innocence. “When did you two arrive?”

“Pop-in people drive me crazy!” said a friend of mind. “If they want to see me, they’d darn well better make an appointment.”

Another said she asks visitors to phone ahead “so I can brace myself.” Not sure if she includes that explanation in her request or if it was for my ears only.

I like the strategy of one gal. When someone shows up uninvited, she gushes over their great timing. “We’re painting the kitchen today. Here, grab a brush!” This generally ensures a nice short visit.

We could be flattered, I suppose, that these people think so much of us that they show up on our porch. Then again, it may be our cooking they crave and the chance for a free meal. Or the 64-inch plasma TV that draws them. Or the wellstocked home bar that’s always open.

But perhaps that’s the answer. We could hang one of those “Closed” signs that shops use. And never turn it over.